You're Not Alone
by Lycosolen
Summary: Kind of a short missing scene from 2x02. Matt couldn't see, and now he couldn't hear. This was one of his worst living nightmare…
1. Chapter 1: Matt's POV

**Author's notes:**

I haven't read any fanfiction in this fandom in a little while, and I wasn't expecting to write something about this, but I just really had to. I began writing this while watching episode 2 of the new season last weekend, so it's maybe a little spoilery, but the entire scene is like a missing scene, so all made up. I don't know how much that's spoilery… but just in case, this is a little warning.

The characters may be a little out of character, especially Matt, but I needed that kind of behavior for it to work.

There will be a second part which will be Foggy's POV.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Matt's POV**

There was no sound. He was _alone_.

He couldn't even hear his own breathing and heart beating, but he knew it was going fast. Surrounded by _complete_ darkness and nothingness, he began to panic, his breathing becoming more difficult by the second.

Was this permanent? Was he going to be like this for the rest of his life?

He shook his head hard from right to left once, as if his hearing could come back by doing so. He couldn't live like this; he _wouldn't_. In this moment, he felt scared, even more than he had been when he'd realized he had lost his sight. And alone. He felt so alone…

He was sure he was hyperventilating when he felt a weight on his right shoulder. Startled, he tried to back away from it, only to realize that he was already practically hugging the wall behind him. The weight got a little heavier and squeezed his shoulder gently. Through his panicked state, his brain finally figured out it was a hand.

He was about to knock the limb out and try to protect himself, but another hand closed around his left wrist lightly, fingers encircling it, and guiding his own hand toward… something.

That something was a face. Surprised, his hand traveled hesitantly along the soft edges, touching, almost caressing, the cheek, mouth and nose, going back up to the corner of an eye.

His hand caught the semi-long hair across the side of the forehead and his right hand instantly went to the other side of that face, pressing a little harder, convincing himself of the familiar presence that was in front of him.

 _Foggy_. It was Foggy's face. He had done this a few years before with his friend, curious to know what he "looked" like, and he would remember him anywhere.

After a few more minutes, his breathing began to slow down, but his hands started to shake against the skin under his fingertips. Then two hands covered his and he felt Foggy's forehead against his own. He could also feel his friend's breath against his face; Foggy was talking to him, but he couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear his friend's voice…

The panic started up again; not only were his hands shaking, but his entire body as well, now. Tears built up behind his now closed eyes and started to fall onto his cheeks silently.

A hand on his back pushed his body slightly forward into awaiting, warm arms that encircled him. He put his head on Foggy's left shoulder and cried softly, wanting… no, _needing_ to feel safe. He needed to feel like he had control again – over his life, over his own body. But he didn't know how at the moment. Foggy was a familiar presence that could achieve that for him, right now.

His own hands went to his friend's forearms and squeezed them shakily, but with determination, as if the other man was a lifeline.

And he was.

Foggy was here, with him, a warm hand slowly tracing light circles on his back, and holding him in a gentle embrace. He wasn't alone.

Gradually, his breathing slowed down again; his tears stopped falling, but he still had his hands tightly wound up in his friend's clothing. He didn't want to let go, scared that, if he did, Foggy would disappear and he would be alone again. And scared…

Well, he was still afraid this situation would be permanent, but, right now, he just wanted _not to be alone_. The silence was eerie, but, at least, he wasn't alone.

A few moments later, Foggy helped him stand on trembling legs. He felt an arm going around his waist, steadying him, while they were walking towards what he assumed was his bedroom – his head wasn't exactly in working order at the moment. It was still a little… _foggy_ – he didn't even have the strength to smirk a little at that thought.

It felt like an eternity had passed when his friend helped him sit and lie down on his bed. When Foggy's hand was about to let go, he reached for it, grasping his wrist in a firm hold.

 _He didn't want to be alone._ There was too much silence and _complete_ darkness. It made him feel defenseless, vulnerable and weak, something he had felt a few times in his life, but not like this. Never like this.

The bed dipped a little under him when Foggy sat and lied down as well beside him. Instantly, he put his head down on his friend's chest, near his heart. If he couldn't hear the sound of it beating, he could at least feel the vibration through his shirt. It comforted him in a way he would never be able to explain.

If the other man was surprised by his unusual behavior, he didn't show it. A hand reappeared on his back and grounded him while his body tried to relax under the attention.

Slowly, but surely, he began to sink into oblivion, exhausted by the last events that had happened since the day before.

* * *

When he woke up, the first thing he was aware of was that he could hear Foggy's hearbeat against his ear. In that moment, he thought that was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.


	2. Chapter 2: Foggy's POV

So here's Foggy's POV for the scene in the first chapter. Obviously, the scene in the actual show, where Foggy and Karen are at the office together after leaving the police station, didn't exactly happened the same way here. Hope you'll like it…

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Foggy's POV**

After leaving the police station, Foggy watched Karen go back to the office while he was trying to call Matt to check up on him. _Trying_ being the operative word.

Foggy was extremely worried about his friend; he had never thought about the man being fragile because of his condition, and even more now that he knew about his double identity, but even the strongest man needed help sometimes.

When he had found him, lying lifelessly on that roof, he had thought, "This is _it_. Matt's dead". And when he had found out he was still alive… he had silently thanked whoever was there to listen and held the wounded man while tremors racked his body, before bringing him home.

When he had left Matt's apartment earlier, he had been hurt and angry by everything that was going on; he didn't want to lose his friend, but, sometimes, Matt made it really difficult to care for him.

He was also really hard to reach these days. When the other lawyer didn't answer, Foggy hung up and decided to go to Matt's, even if he appeared to act like a mother hen – he really didn't care at this point. He had a bad feeling right now. His best friend had just been shot in the head last night; that was a good enough reason to be worried, right?

Arriving at the other man's apartment, he knocked several times on the door, but there was no answer.

"Matt! Come on, open the door. It's Foggy."

Well… his friend probably already knew that.

"I'm just… I don't really like the way we ended things earlier and I want to make sure you're alright, so… Could you open the door so I don't look and sound like a pathetic boyfriend trying to beg for forgiveness here?"

There was still no answer. Even angry, Matt would never let him hang around like that. Something was wrong.

Foggy tried to open the door, just in case, but it was locked. Then he thought about the second entry, by the roof; the last time he had made it inside this way, he had found his friend seriously hurt, still wearing the Daredevil's suit – well, the old one, anyway.

This time, he wasn't sure what he was going to find, but it couldn't be worse, could it?

When he finally entered his friend's place, he saw him, practically glued to the wall between his kitchen and living room, sitting on the floor. Foggy sighed, frustrated, and walked down the stairs, going towards the other man.

"Matt, what are you doing? I've been trying to…" he began to say.

Stopping in front of the brunette, he realized something wasn't right. Matt was breathing too loudly and very fast. His chest was moving up and down too quickly; he was almost hyperventilating. And there was a small trickle of blood running from his nose…

"Matty…?" Foggy whispered, kneeling in front of his friend.

He put his left hand on Matt's shoulder, not expecting his friend's reaction. Matt tried to back away from him, but bumped into the wall behind him. Foggy put a little more pressure on his shoulder and squeezed a little, not understanding what was going on.

"Matt, it's me, Foggy. What's wrong?"

There was no reaction to his words. It was like his friend couldn't hear him… Matt couldn't _hear_ him?!

"Matt!" Foggy said loudly.

Still no reaction.

"Oh God…"

Foggy figured it was probably because of the gunshot wound the lawyer had received to the head; it must've had messed with his senses somehow.

He encircled Matt's left wrist lightly when the other man tried to knock the hand off of his shoulder. He then did the only thing he could think of to help his friend and guided said friend's hand towards his face, making sure to let Matt be in control of this by not applying too much pressure on his wrist; if Matt felt threatened, he could lash out at him and that wouldn't be good, for any of them.

Matt's fingertips traveled softly, hesitantly, along his jaw, toward his cheek, mouth and nose, tickling the skin along the way to the corner of his right eye. The hand then went to his forehead, getting his blond hair away gently. Foggy suddenly felt Matt's other hand on the left side of his face, his fingers moving around the same places he had on the other side, but this time stopping on his cheek, the touch a little more firm.

Foggy remembered letting Matt touch his face once, a few years back. He had thought it strange at the time… another man touching his face. But, right now, it felt like he was helping his friend reconnect with reality, or something equally weird-sounding. And it did seem to work, because he heard Matt's breathing beginning to slow down, but then both hands on his face began to shake. Just a little at first, and then a little more. So he put his own hands on Matt's and brought his forehead against his friend's.

"You're not alone, Matt. You're not alone. I'm here… you're safe."

Foggy soon realized the talking didn't seem to help; it wasn't just Matt's hands that were shaking now, but his entire body. And then, something even worse happened; tears began to fall on his friend's face and he heard him whimper softly, like a scared animal. Foggy never wanted to hear that sound, _ever again_.

He put his right hand on the brunette's back and pushed him slightly towards his own body, trying to give him shelter, make him feel safe, tightening his arms around the shaking body. He felt his shirt getting wet by Matt's tears, hearing him sobbing almost silently against him. His friend's hands went to his forearms, squeezing them in a strong hold, like he was afraid Foggy would let him go.

" _Never, buddy. I'll never let you go_ ," he thought.

He then began to make slow circles onto his friend's back, rocking him gently, and also took that time to wipe the blood from his nose away with his shirt. He didn't think Matt had even realized it; the other man was probably too caught up into his own world – head – right now to notice. Foggy hoped what he was doing was the right thing, because he didn't know what else he could do for him. He felt helpless in this situation, not knowing what his friend really needed.

After a few minutes, Matt's tears and cries stopped. He was still shaking, but less than before. Kneeling on the floor for this long wasn't exactly good on Foggy's knees, and it couldn't be good for Matt's body either. So, getting up slowly, Foggy put an arm around his friend's waist; he could tell Matt wasn't exactly steady on his legs yet.

Making sure the other man wasn't going to fall or hit anything, Foggy made his way towards the bedroom, with Matt leaning against him.

"Careful," he said, uselessly, when he made the lawyer sit down on his bed. He then pushed him a little so he was lying down comfortably, before moving away. But the second his hand was about to leave Matt's shoulder, the other man caught his wrist in a solid grip.

Watching Matt's face for a minute, Foggy didn't hesitate much longer. He sat and lied down in turn beside his friend. He wasn't expecting the brunette to put his head on his chest, but he figured Matt needed some kind of anchor right now. This would probably be one of anyone's nightmare: not being able to see and hear, feeling like you're being locked up inside your own mind. Trembling slightly himself at that thought, Foggy put his left hand on his friend's back, trying to give him comfort, but not sure if he was really succeeding.

But soon, he felt the body near him relax and heard Matt's breathing evened out in the slow rhythm of sleep. A few minutes later, Foggy joined him, hoping Matt would be able to hear him the next time he woke up.


End file.
